


Two Things I Will Carry

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy doesn't know why Clarke is sending him lingerie selfies, but obviously he's not going to object.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Things I Will Carry

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS JUST TINY POINTLESS FLUFF why would it not be I know what I'm about

_new bra!_

Bellamy stares at his phone, trying to process exactly what he's seeing.

Well, obviously, what he's seeing is a selfie Clarke took of herself in her new bra, but he has no idea _why_ he's seeing it. He'd know if it was his birthday. And even if it was, in the last three years she's gotten him dentures, Rogaine, and an Over the Hill mug, so sexy pictures aren't really keeping with her general theme for presents.

_seriously my boobs look amazing, right? validate me_

He looks around, irrationally, like someone is going to pop up and call him out for attempting to sext with Clarke Griffin. Or maybe just explain why it's on the table.

No one does, of course, so he squares his shoulders, twitches his fingers over the phone, and finally replies, _You look gorgeous, yeah._ And then, since he has already seen a picture of her in just her new bra and she's soliciting his opinion, he adds, _And your boobs are unbelievable_.

The ellipses pop up and stay for a while, and Bellamy shifts, feeling a strange thrill of anticipation.

Then the ellipses disappear, and his phone starts to ring, the picture of her and Octavia flipping him off on New Year's taking over the screen.

Are they going to have _phone sex_? Maybe he's in a coma and he just hasn't realized yet. He's pretty sure you never realize you're in a coma until you get out of it.

"Uh, hi?"

"Fuck," says Clarke.

"This might be the most direct phone sex I've ever had," he says, rubbing his face. He can keep his voice teasing, but she'd see the disappointment in person. Whatever. So it was a misfire. That's fine. Really, the worst part is that she's got someone else she's sending sexy pictures to. She was single, last time he heard. And he tends to pay attention when Octavia mentions it. "You're supposed to ask me what I'm wearing."

"Fuck."

"Seriously, it's fine. I figured you sent it to the wrong person." He wets his lips. "But any time you want validation on how great your boobs look, feel free to consult me. Always here to help." 

She lets out a surprised laugh. "Bellamy Blake, selfless appraiser of breasts."

"Exactly." He pauses. "What tipped you off? Like, what were you expecting your potential sext partner to say to that? Was I too respectful?"

"Raven changed a bunch of names in my phone last time we were out," Clarke says, on a sigh. "I hit your new name by mistake. I was expecting a bunch of 100 emoji from your sister."

"Wow, I thought I raised her better than that. That is not the right sext emoji. Also, when did you start sleeping with my sister?"

"Girls text each other boob pics for non-sexual validation sometimes. It's one of the reasons it's awesome to be a girl. Also, your sister is tragically straight, so you definitely raised her wrong."

"Believe me, I did my best to teach her how hot girls are. No one could have tried harder at that than I did."

She laughs again, and he relaxes into the couch. It's still not as good as Clarke actually wanting to send him hot pictures of herself, but at least she wasn't trying to sext some other person whose name started with B. "So, what _are_ you wearing?" she asks, teasing.

"Well, it's six o'clock on a Saturday night and I'm a cool guy, so--pajamas and a t-shirt."

"Wow."

"Yeah, your picture is definitely going to be the highlight of my night," he says. "Well, unless there are unexpected boobs whatever I watch on Netflix."

"You're not coming out with us?" Clarke asks, sounding surprised.

"Octavia says I'm banned from hanging out with her until I stop being a dick about Lincoln."

"So, instead of dealing with your sister's boyfriend like a mature adult, you're going to sit at home alone until they get married and you have to decide whether you go to their wedding or not? You really have your life figured out."

"Yeah, I'm a role model." He yawns. "Honestly, I'm exhausted, I had an event at work today, I don't want to move for the next week. But I figure I'll let O think it's her fault for a while, just in case it works."

"It won't."

"I know."

She's quiet for a minute, long enough it occurs to Bellamy he should maybe try to hang up or something. But he's been busy and she has too, and he hasn't seen her in a couple weeks. It's nice to talk to her. "That isn't really how you sext, is it?" she asks, sounding thoughtful.

"Huh?"

"I mean, let's say we're in a hypothetical world where I sent you that picture because I want to sext with you."

"Okay, I'm there."

"Is your response really that I look _gorgeous_?"

He flushes. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I'm not an expert, but if I'd been trying to sext someone, I would have expected, like, _yeah, that looks great, but it'd look even better if you took it off_ or something."

"The people you're hypothetically sexting suck at foreplay," he says. "I did say your boobs looked unbelievable, right? That's sexting."

Clarke breaks out laughing. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"Have you ever sexted anyone in your life?"

"No, but I was willing to _try_."

She stops laughing, and the silence stretches as he realizes that he kind of took out of hypotheticals there.

"I mean, uh--it's a learning experience, right? Sexting for my personal edification."

"You thought I was sexting you."

"It was one of my theories."

"So if I'd offered to take it off," she says, and Bellamy straightens back up from where he's slumped on the couch.

"Uh, I'm never going to tell you not to take off your bra, so--"

She laughs again. "I'm pretty sure there is some time you'd tell me not to take my bra off."

He pauses, like he's thinking it over. "Nope. Any time you want to, I'll always support that."

"Thanks, I appreciate that. Not enough people want me to always be bra-less."

"Don't get me wrong, it's a really hot bra, but--"

"Yeah, I think you're bad at sexting," she decides.

"Probably," he says. "You kids and your new technology. Back in my day, when we wanted to hook up with a girl, we just did it live and in person."

"I thought you had, like, telegram sex," she says. "What are you wearing, stop. Take it off, stop. A little to the left, stop."

"Messenger pigeons."

"I'm so lucky I'm not two-hundred years old," she says, ignoring him. "I feel like that would lead to some mixed messages. Oh yeah, faster, stop."

"We made do."

"Yeah, but I'm thinking really old school is best."

"Semaphore flags?"

She huffs out a laugh. "I'm downstairs, buzz me up."

Bellamy startles up. "What?"

"Sorry, I felt like we kind of got out of hypothetical there." There's a pause, and she says, "It was on my way. I can just go home and we can forget I said anything."

"No, I'm, uh--I'm buzzing you up," he says.

There are a few flakes of snow in her hair and she's smiling when he opens the door. It's not as straight-out hot as the picture of her was, but she's here in person, which is in all ways an improvement.

"What's my name in your phone now?" he asks, by way of greeting, because that's clearly what matters.

"Penis Mightier," says Clarke.

"Thanks, Raven."

"Any publicity is good publicity, right?"

"I'm feeling pretty good about it right now," he says, because he's not entirely sure what to do, but she showed up at his apartment because he wanted to sext with her, so that's got to be a good sign. "Uh, you can take off your coat? Are you hungry?"

"Oh my god, are you just bad at _sex_?" Clarke asks, grinning as she shrugs off her coat.

"Shut up."

"I should have brought semaphore flags," she teases, sliding her arms around his neck.

"Messenger pigeons, I keep telling you," he says, and he kisses her.


End file.
